Just a Bowl of Cherries

I recently mentioned the abysmal eating habits I’ve developed over the summer, consisting of nothing more than dine-in and takeout galore. I’d consumed every last edible item in my kitchen a couple weeks back, which is no small feat for a girl who’s been known to concoct and enjoy some very odd flavor combinations. What, I’ve still got some walnuts, pickles, a few grains of rice and cottage cheese? Feast!

It’d been so long since I’d gone to the grocery store that this weekend I decided to splurge and head to Whole Foods. There’s a new one in Lincoln Park, and I was curious. I hear they moved because the old one had a little “river rat problem.” Ew. This one’s still quite close to the river, so I’m hoping it’s hermetically sealed. The sensation of being entirely overwhelmed kicked in well before I even set foot in the store… just circling the parking deck I began to glaze over. I made it inside, spotted folks drinking at the full bar that neighbors the produce (Whole Foods barflies), got blocked at the bottom of the escalator by inconsiderate couples chit chatting, and found myself wondering how I was going to get my buggy back up the escalator… I was about to put in my headphones, but thought better… I needed all my faculties about me… otherwise I’d be dead in the water.

Somewhere between produce and diary I got lost and slipped on avocado pulp…. which simply reminded me to grab a few of those at an unknown price per pop. I spent about 45 minutes dazed and confused by the floor plan, recklessly throwing anything and everything organic and/or appealing into my cart without so much as a glance at price. A worker man asked if I needed help choosing olives, said I looked “in awe.” In shock was probably more like it. Five minutes later I walked away from the olive cart with about a hundred olives of 20 different varieties handpicked by Mr. Helpful. I forgot to mention that it would just be me eating those olives. The checkout guy who rang me up had to perform cardio pulmonary resuscitation on me within seconds of announcing my total. I’ve done unexpected damage at the grocery before, but this was seriously criminal, like I was tempting the fates to have someone rob me on the way home… or get fired this week. I’m still waiting. I wanted to put it all back, but it was too late… with tail between legs I sent my cart, clinking bottles and all, up its own escalator, eyeing the mofo all the way up with great resentment. For what it was worth, my cart clearly deserved its own form of transportation, but I was thinking more along the lines of private jet.

Flashforward a few hours… gg came over, and when we peered in my newly stocked fridge for a snack we couldn’t find one. Not one snack worthy item in the lot! I had jalapeno hummus (yum), smoked salmon (yummier), and cheeses (yummiest)… but not a cracker to put them on. I forgot crackers! I’d managed to spend a bloody fortune in Whole Foods and yet didn’t have a damn thing to offer my famished friend other than a string cheese. It wasn’t until the next day that I was mentally ready to take a gander at the receipt to determine how the devil I’d done what I’d done. Yeah there was a bottle of wine, some beer, and the salmon was Charlie Trotter, but mostly… I blame the cherries. The evil cherries. Yes, whilst scrolling down my receipt I discovered that I spent FIFTEEN FUCKING DOLLARS on a pre-packaged 2.8 pound bag of red cherries. A bag of cherries I would normally never be able to finish on my own, mind you. I say “normally” because you better believe this girl is going to finish that bag of cherries no matter what it takes. It’s cherries morning noon and night until I’ve consumed every last one of those suckers. Digestive tract, beware.